


you, me, us

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Post Season 4, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mickey tries to understand what it means to look after Ian.





	

It was so fucking surreal.

The whole moment, the whole situation.

Mandy's home cooked meal meant jackshit the moment Mickey brought it in the room for Ian to eat. He had to eat. Even when no one was looking, even when no one was around, he ate. He must've.

But this time, Ian just cried. Like the ugly fucking bowl of spaghetti upset him so fucking much, he couldn't help but cry.

"It ain't as bad as it looks, I swear." Mickey stuttered out, setting it down by the bedside table. Ian moved the covers over his damn head, but he wasn't subtle about his cries. He was probably drowning in his own fucking tears by now.

Mickey's chest began to hurt. Like a pang sinking down his heart into his ass. He couldn't understand why Ian was hurting so much and that hurt him.

"Hey," Mickey began softly. His hand hesitated to touch Ian and for a moment, he hated himself for the fear he felt inside. Being rejected by Ian? He didn't want that. But also, he didn't know what else he could do.

Manic depression? Bipolar disorder?

The fuck does that even mean?

What can he even do in this situation?

Not enough.

Mickey felt like he wasn't _enough_. He isn't _good enough_ to fix this.

But fuck, he wanted to try.

"It's okay." Mickey started, "It's okay, Ian. It's all good. Don't fuckin' worry about it."

He didn't know what he was saying as he knelt down besides the bed, his forearms pressing into the mattress. He looked at what he assumed would be Ian's head underneath the covers and the crying had toned down to mere sobs and sniffles.

That was good, right?

He's doing good?

"You stay with me, okay? No fuckin' problem, alright? I'm here. I'll take care of you, so please, eat some fucking spaghetti."

And now it was just silence that filled their ears with Mickey's pleas hanging in the air. Thank fuck the door was closed; if anyone else had heard that, he'd drown himself in his own damn tears.

Not that he was crying. But Ian wasn't either now. Or at least, he sounded more stable; his breathing a little shaky with hiccups but that's about it.

"C'mon, it's stuffy under there. Can you even breathe properly?" Mickey said, a little more lightly.

Fuck. The sobs returned. He fucked up.

Mickey palmed his face as he, in the faintest light streaming through the window, could see Ian's shoulders trembling. He wanted to shout and exude all of his rage right about now.

But what good would that do anyone?

None.

Mickey stood back up, deciding the best thing right now was to just join Ian in bed. Sure, it was only seven p.m., but it wasn't like he had anything else to do. He couldn't wrack up an appetite knowing that Ian was refusing to eat too.

This sucked. Bad.

Mickey removed his jacket and jeans, stripping down to just his shirt and boxers before walking around to his side of the bed. Gently, he lied down on the bed, facing Ian who's back was still to him.

Deciding that he was going to refuse to be rejected, Mickey wrapped his arm around Ian, pulling the younger male closer to him.

Now the cries were getting louder again.

"Shh... Shh... Shh..." Mickey cooed, rubbing his hand over Ian's shoulder. Ian finally removed the blanket off his head and Mickey took that chance to press his forehead to the back of Ian's neck.

He pressed soft kisses against the nape before continuing to speak softly, "It's okay, Ian. I'm here. I got you. It's okay."

Reassuring Ian seemed to calm him down, if just by a tad. Mickey didn't know exactly what he was reassuring him on, but fuck, whatever works.

And soon, the silence returned. Mickey didn't really want to say anything that might upset Ian, which in this case, could almost just be about everything.

But as long as Ian knew Mickey wasn't going anywhere, it was enough.

*

Mickey woke up an hour later not knowing he had even fallen asleep in the first place. Ian had shifted in that timeー he was now facing Mickey. He was still asleep but supposedly pulled Mickey underneath the blanket with him too.

Mickey brought his hand up to palm Ian's cheek; his thumb rubbing softly against the red, irritated skin underneath Ian's eye.

That small and soft notion stirred Ian from his sleep and the redhead, like it was an automatic response to seeing Mickey first thing, smiled.

Mickey felt his heart melt.

"Hey." Mickey signed, voice still sleep clogged.

"Hey." Ian all but whispered back.

And Mickey leaned in, pressing his lips against Ian's. He kissed the redhead gently, only moving his mouth against his until Ian parted his lips and slipped his tongue out.

Now they were kissing more deeply.

Mickey wasn't exactly sure when Ian had moved on top of him, or when he felt Ian's hand palm his dick through his boxers, or when he grew hardー but what Mickey was sure about was that Ian, even if just by a little bit, was back.

Mickey wanted to cry about that.

He was so fucking scared Ian wouldn't be able to get out of it.

"Ian..." Mickey breathed out in between the intense kisses as he lifted his hips up. In turn, Ian shoved Mickey's boxers down as far as he could, letting Mickey kick them off and lose them in the sheets.

Mickey groaned as his dick pressed against Ian's bare abdomen.

And soon, the brunet felt strong fingers wrap around his shaft, moving with purpose, and Mickey had gotten _so damn wet_ , his head felt dizzy.

Those same fingers eventually slipped inside him. They worked him open, nice and good.

And then they were replaced by something a lot more bigger, a lot more hotterー more _slippery_. And Mickey's heart skipped in anticipation.

Ian, with Mickey's name on his lips, pushed inside in one swift thrust.

Mickey's eyes screwed shut as his blunt nails dug into Ian's shoulder blades. He couldn't even voice out the pain and pleasure he felt in that one movement. He felt so full; felt so hot, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Mickey, Mickey, Mickey," Ian whispered against his ear before Mickey heard Ian swallow deeply.

"I'mー I'm here." Mickey forcibly breathed out. He clenched his hole around Ian, causing the redhead to moan. He then threaded his fingers through Ian's hair, scratching his scalp to let him know it was okay to move.

Ian did just that.

His hips snapped back and forth in a slow but hard pace. The bed rocked gently and Mickey moaned sweetly.

He wanted so badly to just think about this moment; to just think about how fucking _good_ Ian was making him feel right now.

But other thoughts still lingered.

What did he do right to have pulled Ian out from his depression?

Mickey was scared he'd never know.


End file.
